Ultrarealism

Reality, only more real, but without all the non-real stuff that honks up the joint. You said it yourself, Michael Smith. And so did you Michael and Jennifer Johnson and Mike and Lisa Williams. Don't look at me like that. It's your name isn't it? That's why I wrote it.

Monday, April 02, 2007

Where I have been

First of all. Settle down. Stop yelling and general bellyaching. I will get to your questions in a moment.

I know you are wondering where I have been since September when I last posted. The question to ask is not "where" but "What location or locations have you been at from the time you last posted to now." The reason I wasn't posting was because I was having sex. I had sex with my conjoined nonuplet girlfriends (see my last post). It takes a long time and I like to make each one of my girlfriends satisfied three times before I excstaticly shoot out my jism and throw it around the room. Then I move on to the next one.

The problem is is that, and you're gonna laugh. I go around my nonuplet girlfriends clockwise from the 12 o'clock girlfriend and work my way around. But I kept forgetting my place because they squirm around so much and because I keep forgetting my place. So I had to start over again a bunch of times.

Sunday, September 03, 2006

Conjoined Nonuplet Girlfriends

When nine babies are born at the same time to the same mother, they are called nonuplets. The babies are called that. Not the mother. She’s not part of the set of kids. It’s like they’re twins, only nine of them, though. It’s like nine twins. It must hurt the mom to shoot all nine of them out her ass. You know she’s gonna be feeling that for a long time. Anyway, it would be worse if they were all stuck together like those conjoined twins. It would be conjoined nonuplets. There’s this one girl down the block from me who I have been dating for some time now. She’s a conjoined nonuplet. Her parents are Japanese anime cartoons; which is surprising because it is very rare that Japanese anime cartoons have nine conjoined babies that leak out into the real world. But they are pretty, though. One problem I have with all of this is that I have a hard time telling my girlfriend apart from her other eight identical conjoined sisters. So that’s why I just date all of them at the same time. It is easier for all of us. Plus, they don’t mind it when I call them all the same name. They practically all have the same name, they just spell the name slightly differently. One is Ilene, another is Aileen, then there is Ayeleen, I’Leane, Ileen, Isleene, Ilean, and the other one is Aeileane. The funny thing about all of it is that they don’t even lean. Mostly they just lie around because it is way easier than standing and walking. If they have to get somewhere fast, they cartwheel.

Friday, August 25, 2006

All Ears Lady

No matter how good of a story I have to tell, people who say, “I’m all ears.” are big fat liars. People who are all ears don’t have mouths. People who are really all ears are NOT liars like those people who say they are but aren’t, because they can’t tell you they are all ears because they are all ears. There was this lady who I was telling a fascinating story to and she said she was “all ears” and she was. The only thing she lied about was the part where she said that she was all ears. She didn’t have a mouth, so I knew it was a lie that she was talking in the first place. But other than that, I find those people to be nice. They’re good listeners.

Sunday, August 20, 2006

Spleens and Pancreases

My spleen and my pancreas don’t like each other. They don’t get along so I have to separate them. Truth be told, the real reason I think they don’t like each other is because they are so similar. They see in each other what they don’t like in themselves and it scares them. They also want to be special, but having the other around makes them realize that they aren’t as special as they would like. You see, they are essentially the same organs even though we call them different names. They are starting to figure that out. But really, a spleen is just your body’s way of making sure it has enough pancreases. Technically, you don’t even need a spleen. It is like a stunt double for your pancreas. It only works when your pancreas is tired or is too scared to pancreate that day. You could get rid of your spleen and still be fine so long as you trained your pancreas to have more endurance. Of course, if you ever got mad at your pancreas, you could replace it with two spleens. It might be better that way anyway, because if you filled yourself up with spleens, they would all get along much better than spleens and pancreases. That’s what I’m going to do.

Wednesday, August 16, 2006

When hot chicks fight it means they want me. It especially means it when they dig their nails into the meat of the other one and scratch until they collect a pile of skin up under their fingernails. They should bite each other on the arms and face. That’s a good way to do it. I have two hot chicks that I train how to fight. The best way to do it is to try to rip off the eyebrows of the opponent. It humiliates them and then they get really mad and bite the nose of the other opponent and blow in their nose. If you blow in someone’s nose it is like cardiact recessitation. But it is only cardiac recessitation when a person is not breathing. When you do it when they ARE breathing, then it makes them stop breathing. It’s like a light switch. If it is dark, then working the switch makes it light. But if it is light, working the switch doesn’t make it lighter. It makes it darker. And then you can’t see as well because you need more light than that in order to see. So that’s why you have to use a light switch. Plus, the hot chicks can’t see where to bite each other on the face when there isn’t enough light. So, work the switch in the direction of it making the room have light! Then the hot chicks can bite each other harder and harder until they can tell how much they want me.

Tuesday, August 15, 2006

Eskimo Sand Paper

Sand paper is paper that is made out of sand instead of really thin papery rocks like regular paper is made out of. The Inuit of the igloos knew this long before White people ever inhabited this continent. They kept it secret because they didn’t have trees to sand the splintery wood of until it was smooth. It was already smooth. It was so smooth that it wasn’t even there. That’s why they had to keep the sand paper away, because the wood was already so smooth that it wasn’t even there. If it was any smoother, it would be there even less. Then, when they needed it, it wouldn’t be there until way later and then it would be too late. That’s why there’s the old saying “Don’t give an Inuit sandpaper.”

Monday, August 14, 2006

Pluto Is Too A Planet

For the past several years people have been asking me if Pluto is a planet or not. OK, lets' get something very clear. Pluto IS a planet. This is not debatable. Pluto is a planet because I say it is a planet. The only reason people say maybe it is not a planet is because there are 134,339 objects circling the Sun that some people call minor planets and they think Pluto is just like those "minor" planets. Well, I have news for you big meanies. Those minor planets are sick and tired of your attitude. Their all way bigger than you and they can totally kick your ass at orbiting the Sun. They can also totally kick your ass at other things like kicking your ass. So shut up about them not being planets. They are way more of a planet than you'll ever be. And plus, face it, the real reason you don't want Pluto to be a planet is because then the minor planets would be regular planets and you are just too damn lazy to memorize all 134,349 of them. You bastard.

My Fingernails Can See

I figured that if my finger tips didn't have something to hide, they wouldn't be hiding underneath my fingernails. I decided that this will not stand. I peeled back my fingernails and climbed inside. I didn't need a flashlight because it was daytime out and I was outside where my fingers were. There were only a few steps down on the stairs because my fingers aren't that big. I looked around but only saw pink meaty stuff everywhere. So, OK. Maybe THIS time. But I decided to keep my eye on it. So right before I left to go back up the stairs, I took out my eye and left it there on the pink meaty stuff. Then I climbed back out of my fingertips and shut the nails tightly. It is important to shut them tightly or else things fall out. So I stapled them good and tight. Now they won’t flap open in the wind. And since I left my eyeball in there, I can see the inside of my nose sometimes.

Saturday, August 12, 2006

Tube Steak for Dinner

Thursday, August 10, 2006

Bowel Movements Grandma

My grandmother is always interested in the quality of my bowel movements. She calls them BMs. My grandmother goes to me, "So, did you have a nice BM?". And I am like totally embareassed because I had just had the most beautiful and life affirming BM of my life (you would have fallen in love with it. I thought about framing it, but I didn't.) and I am standing there in the middle of our living room with like 12 other people my parents had for dinner. I'm like, "Grandma! Why would you ask me such a thing?" And she's all like, "Duh! I can see your pants sagging." Then I got mad because she knows I am collecting them and I am waiting to put on a show when my collection is complete and she knows my collection isn't complete yet. She's just jealous because she hasn't made a BM in like 3 weeks. Plus, I was already mad because I found out that she has been sneaking into my bed at night and stealing my BMs for her own collection, just so people won't suspect that she hasn't been making her own in 3 weeks. So, I was like, "Fine! Tell everyone about my secret BM collection in my pants! You haven't made your own BM in 3 weeks and the only reason you have a BM to show people is because you stole mine when I was in bed at night." Then the 12 people that my parents had had for dinner were all like laughing and pointing all of their fingers at my grandmother. She was so busted. Then she yelled, "I do to so make my own BMs! I was just borrowing yours to make sure your BMs were good. I can't tell anymore since you don't keep your collection in your sock drawer like you used to." Then I realized that she was right and she just did it because she cares about me. Then we all held hands and I regailed them with detailed stories of my recent BMs. Afterwards she gave me back several BMs that she had stolen from my collection in my pants. I put them back in my pants and my grandmother and the 12 people my parents had had for dinner were happy.

Tuesday, August 08, 2006

Flipflop Word Sign

I was out skipping down Main Street in my little sister's old flip flops that I made into a dress, you know, like I do every Tuesday. I had to stop skipping and rhythmically honking a bicycle horn because a church sign decided to speak out against me. Well not speak out, don't be stupid. It worded out against me with its words. When its words shot into my eyes I almost tripped onto the sidewalk (which would have hurt on account of the flip flops offering little in the way of protection and I wasn't wearing any underwear or a condom this time). The cheese I was making in my mouth fell out onto the dirty sidewalk. Now it's going to be all crunchy. But that's besides the point. The point is, the sign clearly doesn't like me. I'd say its hostility is duly noted. Though, frankly I am flattered that it thought enough to mention to me that bingo was tonite. I marked it on my calendar when I got home. But that's besides the point. Stop being besides the point. I'm trying to say something. Well, not say something. Don't be stupid. I'm trying to word something with my words. This is the words I am making: The sign is against me, which has made water shoot out of my eyes so hard that I decided to skip back (sullenly) to my front lawn and spin around in circles. At least the grass liked me. It was thirsty. You can tell it's thirsty because it turns itself brown. Thats' grass words for "I'm thirsty". It wasn't thirsty after about half an hour. Some of the neighborhood kids put their bathing suits on and ran around the front yard while I was spinning and shooting water out of my eyes. They didn't do that the whole time. They stopped when their parents yelled at them to get away from me. I think they're dumb like the sign.

Let's settle this once and for all. Are you on the side of the sign or the grass? Word your words in the comment word section.